Playin' Hard (Original version)

Five

Avoiding DeAndre after Tuesday's disaster in class and encounter at After Hours had been easy. He didn't show up at Henry's and neither of us commented on each other's remarks in class. By the time Friday rolled around I was convinced I could avoid his party as well.

There was only one period left of the day and I fortunately had the day off work, it was up to Troiann as far as what we were going to do for the evening. I was up for anything that didn't involve overrated boys and their egos.

         I was just about to ask Troiann what she wanted to do when the PA buzzed and the assistant principal came on to remind us about the upcoming talent show in a month.

         "Ain't nobody trying to be in no talent show," Troiann said, waving off the announcement. "Not like anyone's got talent that doesn't involve a ball."

         "Some of these girls would pay to see one of the Ballas throw or bounce a ball." That was just how pathetic the Bunnies were.

         Troiann chuckled. "Hell yeah. I actually wouldn't mind seeing Marcus throw a ball."

         I waited for the punch line but it never came. "Eww, Troy, no."

         Troiann shrugged. "Marcus is cute, Cree."

         Across the room sat Marcus and the rest of the Ballas' Club. All were J'd up, wearing clothes that accentuated their suave looks. Marcus was leaning back; one of his arms was propped up so he could rest his head on his fist. The act making his bulging muscles show in his tattooed bicep.

         Marcus was cute, but guys like him and the rest of the Ballas were nothing but trouble. 

         I shook my head. "No way, Troy. Too much drama."

         Troiann looked over at Marcus and frowned. "You right, he ain't that cute anyway."

         For the pain he and the rest of the boys often caused, no he wasn't.

         Mr. Donatelli called the class to order, wanting to get back to his lesson. "Let's talk about cultural geography," he said. "Due to the separation of Pangaea, a lot of the world's culture and its people grew diverse as a result. With miles of ocean separating continents and countries, it's no surprise that some of us have accents and different customs."

         There were only ten minutes left of class and he wanted to bring this up now?

         I snuck a frown at Troiann and she did her best not to laugh.

         "Whether your culture's American, or not," Mr. Donatelli went on.

         Troiann rolled her eyes, whispering, "What's that supposed to mean?"

         I elbowed her. "You're American."

         "My momma ain't."

         Now I was rolling my eyes. Typical Troiann.